


Alice, Angel

by RoseGabriel



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance, Tryst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-07 04:32:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14663355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseGabriel/pseuds/RoseGabriel
Summary: A chance meeting. A casual arrangement. Mutually pleasurable. But never as simple as all that. Alice Klein has visited Brooklyn often enough, but she's never happened across the infamous Spot Conlon in person before. Upon meeting him, she finds that the male descriptions she's used to don't do him justice-he's much more charming and rugged than that.





	1. Chapter 1

On Thursday, November 2nd, Alice packed a trunk, ordered a coach, and left Boston, Maryland for Brooklyn, New York. Because it was late afternoon and she would not be riding through the night, she'd opted to buy a ticket that would seat her in one of the non-sleeping compartments. Once, her aunt had paid for her to have a private compartment, but since her death years previously, leaving her only son with debts he'd before been unaware of, Alice traveled in more standard accommodations. Henry and Alice had grown up more as siblings than as cousins, as Alice's mother died when she was a child and she'd moved in with her mother's sister, Elsbeth. Alice and Henry had lived a simple but comfortable life, only learning after Elsbeth's death when they were teenagers that they'd been living on credit for nearly a decade. Henry had been devastated. He'd been an apprentice in a large printing shop with money set aside to open his own shop, but instead all his savings had gone to a funeral and settling his mother's debts. Even his savings had only put a dent in the total amount owed. Alice had worked as a secretary for a local business man since she was 13, but at 17 she used her former employer's recommendation to move to Boston where she became secretary for a successful lawyer. The increase in pay was enough to allow her to send money to Henry periodically.

He'd first tried to continue living in the spacious apartment they'd grown up in, but ultimately he was forced to move to a different part of town, to a tenement where he lived with three other young men in similar situations. He continued working at the printing shop, but had seemingly given up on his dream of ever opening one of his own. Alice had not given up on this dream for him and still felt sure they could make it happen. He'd promised her work in his shop someday, and though she had a comfortable life in Boston, she missed being near her family and felt sure working with Henry would be more fulfilling.

Her employer, Mr. James Sedaris, was a public defender who worked cases all along the East Coast. He worked tirelessly, often round-the-clock, and only took off work around the holidays. He took off the entire month of November, which enabled Alice to be off as well, Christmas day, and New Year's Day. Otherwise, they worked. He could be gruff and demanded almost all of her time, but he was generally fair and compensated her well. Furthermore, he had never done anything to make her feel uncomfortable, even working late alone together, which was almost unheard of anywhere else. Typically, as she was now, she spent her month off with Henry, staying with him in Brooklyn to fit in a years' worth of time together. Being only five months apart, they had always been close, even before Alice moved in with him and Elsbeth.

Alice spent her train ride reading and making light conversation with those sharing her compartment. About five, they went together to the dining car and had a light supper before returning to their compartment for the remainder of the journey. When she got off in Brooklyn, there was a boy with her trunk on a cart waiting for her and he wheeled it before her to a waiting area next to the ticket office and unloaded it there, accepting her tip before leaving. She leaned wearily against the trunk, which was standing up on one end, and scanned the busy street in front of her for a cart that might have Henry in it. Usually he could get away with borrowing the one owned by the shop and could avoid hiring one. A few feet away, a newsie was hawking headlines—something about westward expansion—and Alice waved him over, not wanting to leave her chest, and reached into her waistband for a penny.

"Evenin, Doll," the newsie said, dipping his head in a nod. "Nice night."

"It is nice," Alice agreed, smiling up at him. He seemed older than most newsies typically were, closer to her age than 14, 15, 16 as was common. The corner of his mouth twitched up like he was enjoying the way she was looking at him, and Alice looked down quickly at his hand, holding out her paper, which she took.

"Ya new in town?" he asked, shifting the remaining stack of papers under his arm and tilting his head to look her over.

"Just visiting," she said.

"Ya need a tour guide?"

Alice looked back up into his face and he was looking hard in her eyes and smirking.

"I'd love ta show ya around," he added, donning a more innocent expression.

"I already have someone to do that for me, thank you," Alice answered, but she smiled and shook her head. Someone passing by on his way into the street bumped Alice's shoulder and the newsie put a hand out to steady her, settling it around her waist.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry," the offending stranger said, tipping his hat to her, and then she straightened and brushed the newsie's hand away.

"Thank you," she said. "For the paper and for your kind offer of companionship."

"Anytime, Darlin," he grinned and took his hat all the way off his head, pressing it to his chest. "If ya change yer mind, you know where ta find me."

He turned and walked past her, further into the train depot, once again hoisting his newspapers to his shoulder, one thrust in the air as he called out the headline. Alice shook open the one she had purchased and scanned through the tidbits of news while she waited for Henry. She wasn't very far along when she heard her name being called and he rolled up in the print shop's cart.

"Hey, Cuz," he greeted her, grinning, and he jumped down from the cart and pulled her into a hug.

"You look thin," Alice teased, harkening back to something their mothers always told them as a way of showing affection.

"Growing thinner every day," Henry answered. "You don't seem to be any worse for wear." He held her back at arms' length and looked her over. "I'd guess you've put on a few pounds."

"Oh, stop," Alice laughed, swatting at him with her refolded paper.

"Is this everything?" he asked, lifting her trunk up onto his shoulder.

"If you mean almost everything I own, yes."

"It feels that way."

Henry heaved the trunk into the back of the cart, which creaked on its axels, causing the horse to shuffle a bit, then he climbed up onto the bench and reached over to help Alice in.

"Are you hungry?" he asked as he flicked the horse on.

"I ate on the train and the answer is still 'yes.'"

"Good, I waited for you," he said.


	2. Chapter 2

They spent the first part of the week eating together on Henry's lunch breaks and going out in the evenings—to the theater, for Italian food around the corner, to the vaudeville, even to a ballgame one night. Despite having lost a whole purse full of coins sometime during her journey, Alice convinced Henry to let her treat him as she was subletting her Boston apartment for the month and so had extra income from saving on rent and utilities. She didn't tell him about the lost money, not wanting to worry him, and so he let her do so. At night, they played cards and dice with Henry's roommates and sat up talking by lamplight until the men shuffled to bed before early-morning work. Henry lived in a large, barren apartment with worn wooden floors and peeling walls. Most of the area was open—a small kitchen, a table and chairs, an old couch and rocking chair pulled up around the wood stove, a sideboard cluttered with chipped drink ware and empty bourbon and whiskey bottles. What remained of the apartment was split into two rooms, a narrow bathroom between them. Henry and Sam slept in one of the rooms, and Ethan and Brian in the other. When Alice visited, the boys all slept in Ethan and Brian's room, dragging Sam's bed in and pushing the three together, all squeezing in. Alice got Henry's room and his bed. She usually waited until they were all gone for the morning to use the shared bathroom. Often she was still asleep when they left, but sometimes she got up to cook them breakfast before their days started.

Their first Saturday was one such day that Alice got up when they boys did to cook. Before he left, Henry told her he had something special planned for that night.

"Spot Conlon's hosting a shindig down at the docks," he said. "It'll be a lot of newsies, but factory guys and such, too. A little rougher than our usual crowd, but I know you're curious about Conlon and a lot of the guys will have their girls there so it should stay pretty tame."

"Ah, I can finally meet Spot Conlon," Alice teased. He was Brooklyn street trash royalty and she'd heard the boys talking about him often but had never met him herself. Even having lived in Brooklyn as a child, she and Henry had never run with that crowd. If she'd met him then, she hadn't known it. Spot Conlon had started to feel like an urban legend to her. His name seemed to crop up in all kinds of stories involving various unsavory characters—Alice wasn't sure what he "did" exactly, just that he wasn't a newsie anymore but still lived in the lodging house and dabbled here and there with local crime lords. The way the boys had always talked about him, he was cold and commanding and scary. She used to tease them about their obvious fear of someone their own age, but then, as said, she had never met him herself.

In her mind, he wore a dingy bowler hat and ill-fitting vest that let the shirt billow up between it and his waistband, and he twirled a cheap pocket watch with short, stubby fingers brown from chewing tobacco. In her imagination, he looked closer to 40 than to 19 or 20, but there was just something so cartoonish about her impression of him that the knowledge she couldn't possibly have him pictured correctly didn't actually do anything to change her mental image.

Truthfully, she was excited to catch a glimpse of him. And she was excited by the prospect of a party. She always liked going to those put on by the lower classes rather than those of the upper. They were rowdy and cheerful and everyone cut loose and had a good time rather than mingling stiffly through stuffy ballrooms. Furthermore, Henry had told her to dress up and that meant wearing her good dress—the deep burgundy one with the quarter-length sleeves and dipping neckline, the one that lightened her complexion and brought out the green in her eyes and the red in her light brown hair and the one that slipped over her figure just right. If she could have worn that dress every day without ruining it, and therefore ruining its appeal, she would have.

Having the majority of the day to whittle away before the evening's festivities, Alice dressed in her normal, everyday clothes and walked down the street and over a few blocks to the outdoor market. She carried a basket on her hip that quickly filled with fresh-baked bread, sugar, coffee grounds, a block of cheese, wrapped turkey, dry beans, and—a real treat—fresh strawberries. It was heavy on her arm and she still had to complete the market circuit and walk back to Henry's apartment, but she didn't mind so much as the weather remained seasonably warm, with a crisp breeze that felt good in her chest.

As she browsed fresh flowers at the florist's stall, considering weaving something into her hair for the night, she heard a throat clear behind her and a low, amused voice asked, "buy me last pape, Doll?"

Alice turned to find the same newsie from the train station, a single paper held out toward her. His thin lips were drawn up at one side and his head was inclined slightly in a shallow nod of respect. She smiled, surprised to run into him so far from where she'd seen him last, but not altogether displeased. She didn't have any reason to be unhappy at seeing him.

"Hello again," she greeted him, and reached into her waistband for a penny, handing it over to him and taking his paper-though she'd already read that morning's-adding the paper to her heavy basket.

"Isn't it a little late to still be selling the morning addition?" She teased.

His eyebrows raised. "So you're a newsie? Ya know how quickly it oughta sell?"

"No, just seems like you're typically done by now."

"I don like ta give me last pape away ta just anyone," he explained, his blue eyes spreading with his easy smile. "I saved it special, hopin I'd sees youse again."

Alice felt the smile on her face spreading in spite of herself. She didn't see any harm in flirting a little—it was unlikely she'd ever see him again. That she'd already run into him twice was surprising. And, there was something alluring about him. Maybe his eyes, how translucent they were. Or maybe the rigid slant of his angular jaw, or maybe his broad shoulders, or the sandy hair that could be seen under the brim of his cabbie hat.

Or maybe the smile—devious but somehow still charming—and all the while self-aware, if that were something a smile could be. Alice could tell by the look on his face and the way he held his body that he was flirting, that he knew he was flirting, and that he was counting on her knowing he was flirting, too.

"You got lucky, then," she answered finally.

"Lucky enough ta walk a pretty goil home?" He asked.

This guy. Maybe a little too charming. Most men didn't have the nerve—or the impropriety—to make their attraction so blatant. There was only one way, Alice thought, that he could be so gutsy and so smooth at the same time, and that was that he was very well practiced and had been met with much success.

Still, despite realizing this, she passed her basket to his outstretched hand and accepted his other arm, placing one hand lightly around his elbow, barely hovering there, allowing him to turn them back through the crown and up the street the way she'd come.

"Which way?" He asked when they came up on a corner.

"I half expected you to know already," Alice answered lightly. "You have, after all, quite clearly been keeping tabs on me."

His eyebrow tipped up again as he looked down on her and they laughed a little together.

"No such thing, Sweet'eart," he answered, looking forward again. "Just fate dat keeps pushin us tagether."

They walked along a ways in silence. Without anything to retort to, Alice wasn't sure what to say to someone she knew nothing about. She didn't usually talk to strangers, especially not strange men, and it was as if she remembered this suddenly. She pulled up short and withdrew her hand from his arm, stepping back from him. She was only blocks away from the house she was staying in, only blocks away from letting a complete stranger into that house.

"Wassa mattah, Doll?" Her companion asked her, seemingly unphased by her abrupt change in behavior.

"I don't know you," Alice said. She looked uncomfortably toward her basket of groceries, which now seemed to be held hostage on his opposite arm.

"Doncha wanna know me?" This comment could have made her feel more uncomfortable, could have been heavy with implications, but it wasn't. It was just a question.

She looked at him guardedly, studied his light, surprisingly open eyes and his parted lips.

"Are you one of Spot's newsies?" She asked.

He laughed, which surprised her.

"I'm a Brooklyn newsie," he said, "so yeah."

"I'm going to your party tonight," Alice said.

"At da docks?" Now it was his turn to be surprised.

"Yes, my cousin and I are going. Will you be there?"

"I'll be dere." He dipped his head to catch her eyes with his, intent. "I'm glad you'll be dere. I'll buy ya a drink."

Alice smiled at him again like she had been before, before she had caught herself. "I don't drink," she said.

"None of us did before we met Conlon," he joked. "He drives ya to it."

"Is he so bad?"

"Nah, not so bad. Tough, but so's Brooklyn. And fair. Ya never met im?"

She shook her head.

"I want to," she admitted. "He sounds...intriguing."

He laughed. "Sure, Doll. I'll introduce ya."

"Will you?"

"Course. He'd be pissed if I let an angel like youse get by 'im unnoticed."

Alice looked away and shifted with embarrassment under his gaze, but she was pleased. Seeming to take the hint, he passed her basket back to her and reached for her hand.

"Til tanight den, Angel," he murmured, and brushed his lips across her hand, leaving her blushing in the middle of the street.

When she got back up into the apartment, she noticed that the paper she'd bought wasn't in the basket. When Henry walked in, he carried an armful of flowers.

"Are those for me?" Alice asked in surprise, taking the loose collection of daisies and babies breath.

"I don't know," Henry answered, frowning. "They were leaning against the door just now when I got home."

"You didn't buy them?"

"No. Who knows you're here? Who else do you know in Brooklyn?"

Alice didn't answer, because she was just realizing that the flowers were the same ones she'd been eyeing at the market, and that they were wrapped in newspaper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with the story so far! I know there is some background in these first couple of chapters that can get a little boring, but I try to keep it as minimal as possible and not let it take away to much from the main focus. What do you think so far? Do you like Alice's newsie suitor or is he creepy? ;) Read, favorite, request, review!


	3. Chapter 3

Henry, Sam, Ethan, Brian, and Alice left the apartment after 9:00 that night and began the walk across town to the docks. The boys wore clean, pressed shirts and vests and had slicked back their hair. Their shoes were shined. Alice had braided her hair long down her back and then pinned it up against the nape of her neck, weaving in stems of the babies breath. Behind one ear, she'd pinned a single daisy blossom. She wore a dark teal dress with swaths of lace draped around the widest part of the skirt and a pointed bodice that narrowed at the waist. The sleeves were solid from shoulder to forearm, and then there was netting with lace appliques to the wrists, clasped with pearl buttons. The same netting and lace spread over her shoulders and up her neck, buttoning at her hair line. Henry had talked her out of any embellishment beyond the flowers in her hair—he'd even been skeptical of the dress she'd chosen. He seemed concerned about the quality of company they'd be joined by that evening, but when Alice had asked him why he was willing to take her to such a party as that, he'd said no more about the dress.

It was dark but the night was young so the streets remained busy and noisy. They walked about 20 minutes to the docks; Alice had been flushed at first, the lace netting of her dress clinging to her damp skin, but as they came nearer to the docks, she felt the air thicken and cool and could smell the salty breeze that refreshed her.

They were blocks away when they could first hear the party in full-swing—voices swelled over the low lap of the waves, and there was ice clinking in glasses and the crackle of a fire, and over all of that someone was playing a fiddle. When they rounded the final building and stepped out into the wide, flat shipyard, Alice could see what was at least 100 people dancing and drinking and laughing. Four long tables had been carried from the nearby lodging house to the trampled grass just off the main dock, and the tables were stacked with jars of licorice, gum drops, gumballs—even squares of gold-wrapped chocolate. There were a few pies and a single chocolate cake. The rest of the table space was dominated by an assortment of mismatched, chipped glassware, and jugs of booze. There were some wooden dining chairs scattered throughout the crowd, a few upholstered bar stools with torn seats, even some dusty, sagging recliners. Some sat, a few, but most stood by the tables or around the roaring fire at one end, and some danced in the wide field to the left of the fire, where the fiddler played.

The nearer they came to the revelry, Alice realized she was searching the crowd for the one that might be Spot Conlon, but no one matched that cartoonish, middle-aged figure in the bowler hat that she had concocted in her mind. She took hold of Henry's arm and they immersed themselves in the throng, the boys skirting off in other directions as they saw friends or coworkers or sweethearts. In the end, just Alice and Henry approached the long tables for drinks. Henry poured them both something from a large, clear jug, and Alice took one sip before the fire clouded her chest and made her cough.

"That's serious stuff," Henry agreed, laughing and patting her back. "You don't have to drink it." Alice tried another sip with a similar effect and shook her heard.

"Not sure I'll be able to!" she laughed. "But I'm going to hold it at least. Can't let the locals know I can't handle it." Henry nudged her shoulder in solidarity and excused himself to greet some friends. Alice stayed by the table. She reached out for a strand of licorice and tore off a tough bite of it in her mouth, jaw working hard to chew.

"You came."

Alice felt a hand on the small of her back and turned to face the familiar newsie, still chewing the licorice, laughing with tight lips at the timing and putting her free hand to her mouth.

"I'm sorry," she said behind her hand.

"S'alright, Doll," he grinned. He wasn't wearing his usual cabbie hat and his light hair swung loose over his ears and forehead. He still had his hand against her back. Alice didn't mind but it made her nervous. She could feel one of his fingers brushing lightly against her dress. She swallowed her bite and dropped the rest of the licorice onto the bare tabletop behind her.

"Have you come to introduce me to Mr. Conlon?" she asked, unsure of what else to say. He faltered, looked disappointed, glanced around.

"I was hopin you'd like ta spend some time wid me, first," he said. "Maybe go fer a walk."

"Oh," Alice smiled. She could tell that he wasn't willing to share her with Spot just yet, and she liked that. "Okay, yes. Please."

He took her hand and led her the shortest distance through the crowd, deeper into the shipyard and further onto the dock, his hand warm around hers. Even when they'd left the party behind them, he didn't drop her hand.

"I'm glad ya came," he said presently, strolling slowly with his opposite hand in his pocket. "I got something ta tell ya."

"Oh?"

He withdrew his hand from his pocket and turned to face her, holding something out to her.

"That's my coin purse!" she exclaimed in surprise. "I thought I'd lost it forever, where did you find it?"

"Das the t'ing. I didn' find it. I was da one ta take it from ya. At da train station."

Alice frowned and thought back through that first meeting. She couldn't remember him ever being close enough to take anything, let alone the thing she had been most mindful of. She took the coin purse out of his hand but didn't have anywhere to put it and just stood holding it and facing him.

"I don't see how—" she said.

"Someone bumped inta ya," he answered. "When I reached out ta steady ya, I took it. I could see it in yer waistband."

"Ah."

"There's every penny in dere dat was dere when I took it. Ya kin count if ya want."

"No. I believe you."

He didn't apologize. They stood in the dark silence. Neither spoke or moved.

"I didn' know ya den," he said finally, as if that explained his actions.

"You don't know me now," Alice replied.

"Whas yer name, Doll?" he asked.

"Alice," she whispered. The dark was close and the night was cool and blew against her neck. She leaned closer to him, suddenly nervous.

He took her hand again and bent to kiss it.

"Nice ta meet ya, Alice," he said. The way he said her name made her blush. His voice wrapped around the word, cushioned it, set it gently out before her.

"And you are?" she asked.

"Ya still wanna know me?" he asked. "Even afta I took yer purse?"

"You did give it back," she shrugged, then smiled. "And you bought me the flowers. I didn't yet thank you for that."

"Ya look beautiful."

"Thank you."

He tilted his head and leaned it down to hers.

"Dance wid me."

"What?"

"Dance wid me, Angel."

"Here?"

"I can hear da music. Can't you?"

They weren't so far away from the festivities that they couldn't still hear the strain of the violin and the raised voices.

He put an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against his chest, drawing the other hand up her arm and folding it around her hand. Alice could smell something spicy—maybe bourbon—against his neck, and his shirt was smoky. She pressed her cheek against him, warming it on his skin. They swayed in the dark to the violin so many yards away and again didn't speak to one another.

"Why ya so interested in Spot Conlon?" he asked when the song was ending. He pulled back to see her face but didn't let her go.

"He's something of a curiosity to me," Alice admitted, ducking her head. "I just can't wrap my head around him. He sounds interesting."

"He's nothin special," he answered, grinning. "Truthfully, Doll, I'm not so excited ta introduce ya."

"No? Why's that?"

"I'm afraid you'll like him better den ya do me."

Alice laughed. "I don't think so."

"No?"

"I like you," she admitted.

"Well I like ya too, Sweet'eart," he answered. His smile widened, lifting up at one corner, crooked. He leaned in closer to her, his arms suddenly holding her tightly in place, and Alice felt her stomach flip and drew some of the cold air into her chest suddenly.

"I still don't know your name," she stammered.

"It ain't important," he murmured and pressed his lips against hers before she could come up with anything else to say.

His hand reached up to cup her cheek behind her ear. Alice stretched up on her toes to deepen the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt his breathing hitch against her and his lips parted hers and continued moving.

"Spot," she breathed, letting her hands fall to his chest and easing him back, away from her. He leaned his forehead against hers, breathing heavily, a smile cracking his lips.

"Too much, Angel?"

"You admitted it," Alice said.

"That I like ya? That I took yer purse? That I don't wanna share you with Conlon? All of it."

"No," she breathed, shaking her head against him, smiling.

"You are Conlon."

He pulled back, face suddenly tight and stoic. "What?"

"I just called you Spot and you answered," Alice said softly, extracting herself from his arms.

He didn't know what to say. That was clear to her. He opened his mouth once and closed it again.

"You're not what I expected," Alice continued. "I thought you'd be older. Fatter. Certainly not that you'd be…" she gestured to him. "Like this?"

"What's dat like, Angel?" Spot asked, something flickering back through his eyes again.

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I taught ya might be disappointed."

"You've lied to me twice now."

"I'm used to it. You'll get used to it, too."

Alice laughed because his answer caught her off guard and she didn't know what else to do. She was mad, a little. She felt like every interaction they'd had so far had been forced. She still clutched the coin purse in her left hand, a reminder that their first meeting had ended in a crime. Her lips still tingled from his, a reminder that he'd used the lies to make a move on her. She'd expected him to apologize but he hadn't. She hadn't expected him to be Spot Conlon and he was.

She studied him. He was studying her, his blue eyes trailing over her face, his head dipped low in what might have been remorse, but a smirk played at the side of his mouth—crooked again—and his hands twitched at his sides like he wanted to reach for her again. Knowing now that he was Spot, Alice felt nervous. It was like knowing his name made him a different person.

"I don't apologize," Spot said.

"I don't guess you would," Alice answered. They continued regarding each other, neither sure how to proceed. Finally, Alice stepped back up to him, stretched up, and kissed him again, her arms at her sides. He kissed her back but he didn't touch her. He breathed into her, and something trembled through his body like a chill.

When she pulled back again, she liked the surprise in his eyes. She imagined Spot Conlon wasn't normally surprised. He looked pleased, too. Alice's stomach was in knots. She took in a deep breath and blew it out too quickly, all at once.

"That was my move," she said. "What's yours?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? Was anyone surprised that it turned out to be Spot? He was hard to describe in earlier scenes because you all know him so well that almost any detail gives him away! Do you think Alice should have run him through the ringer a little more or are you excited to get to the romance? I look forward to hearing what you thought of this chapter! Read, favorite, request, review!


	4. Chapter 4

~

_"I don't apologize," Spot said._

_"I don't guess you would," Alice answered. They continued regarding each other, neither sure how to proceed. Finally, Alice stepped back up to him, stretched up, and kissed him again, her arms at her sides. He kissed her back but he didn't touch her. He breathed into her, and something trembled through his body like a chill._

_When she pulled back again, she liked the surprise in his eyes. She imagined Spot Conlon wasn't normally surprised. He looked pleased, too. Alice's stomach was in knots. She took in a deep breath and blew it out too quickly, all at once._

_"That was my move," she said. "What's yours?"_

~

 

Just then, something caught Spot’s eye over Alice’s head and he raised his chin in acknowledgement of the newsie she turned to see jogging away.

“Gotta go, Doll,” he said, taking her hand and leading her back down the dock. “Duty calls.”

They could see as they neared the party that two newsies were scuffling, locked against each other, their shirts and fists bloody, spewing angrily. It had drawn quite a crowd. Alice was surprised they hadn’t been able to hear the commotion, even from as far off as they’d been.

“’Ey!” Spot yelled as they approached. He dropped her hand and went for the cane slung through his belt loop, pounding it on the ground.

“Cut it out!”

The two boys sprang apart at his voice and stood, chests heaving, glaring at each other.

“What’s dis ‘bout?” Spot demanded. Alice crept off to the side where she could see his face. She scanned the crowd but didn’t immediately notice Henry or his roommates. Spot was like a totally different person; his face was dark—jaw clenched, brow furrowed, eyes flashing furiously as the scufflers took too long to answer.

“I said,” Spot spit through clenched teeth, “what da hell is dis about?”

The two glanced between them.

“Nothin, Spot,” one answered, spitting blood off to the side. “Sorry ta bother ya.”

“Ya normally beat a guy to a pulp over ‘nothin’?”

The other boy stepped up, dipping his head and lowering his voice so only Spot could hear. Spot glanced up at the crowd that had formed.

“Beat it,” he said firmly. Alice watched them scatter in surprise. She had known Spot’s reputation, but knowing it and seeing it in action were two very different things. She lowered herself to the bench that happened to be just behind her but continued watching the exchange. She could no longer hear what they were saying, but Spot pulled the two boys in close and they muttered through the conversation with their heads bent together. Finally, Spot clapped one of them on the shoulder, bestowing upon the other some final remarks, then turned and walked away.

His eyes scanned the revelry, the party having resumed, and then his eyes lighted on Alice. His eyebrows twitched up in acknowledgment and he made his way over to her.

“Alright, Angel?” he asked, slumping down next to her on the bench, his elbows resting on the tabletop behind them.

“Yes, fine,” she smiled. “It’s impressive seeing you in action.”

He scoffed.

“What was that all about?”

“A goil,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s always either a sellin spot or a goil.”

“There you are!” It was Henry, striding up quickly to reach her side, his eyes darting over to Spot nervously, gripping her arm and pulling her to her feet. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said, loudly as if play-acting and acting poorly.

“Henry, I’m fine,” Alice teased, pulling her arm away. Behind her, Spot said nothing. He was looking away, over at something else.

“I’m sorry if I worried you,” she continued, looking into Henry’s eyes intentionally and grinning. He must have had a heart attack when he finally found her sitting right next to Spot Conlon.

“Dance with me,” he ordered and pulled her willingly into the circle of people twirling on the grass to a lively jig from the violin.

“The hell was that about?” he demanded, twitching his head back toward Spot, who had since disappeared from the bench.

“Turns out I’ve already met Spot Conlon,” Alice beamed. “The first day I arrived and once since. I had no idea it was him, of course. We had some settling up to do,” she added, remembering the coin purse tucked back into her waistband.

“Hey,” she slipped it out, now realizing how insecure a hiding place that was, and held it out to Henry. “Will you keep this in your pocket for me?”

“What is it? Why did you bring so much money here?” he demanded, glancing around in terror as he shoved it into his pocket nonetheless. “Don’t you know where we _are_?” he demanded.

“Now that I’ve got an ‘in’ with Spot Conlon, I feel much less anxious about our present company,” Alice answered.

“God, Alice,” Henry shook his head and took her hand to spin her around. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

 

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

A few days passed without her seeing Spot again. She went to the market, to the same place, hoping he sold near there, but never came across him. She almost went so far as going back to the train station but convinced herself it was crazy.

Shouldn’t she be trying to play it cool? This was Spot Conlon, after all, she told herself. Maybe what had happened between them at the party was all that would ever happen between them. But she didn’t want that. Mostly, she knew she was just bored in this city she didn’t belong in with no one to keep her company when the boys were at work. She told herself it was just this lonely idleness that accounted for her preoccupation. She convinced herself that it hadn’t been a big thing between them and that she should move on.

And that’s when, late one night, there was a knock on the apartment door. She and Henry and Brian were playing cards around the lamp on the table. Ethan, who’d been reading a book on the couch and was nearest to the door, got up to answer it. Alice wondered why they all looked so tense, like they thought their apartment was invisible and no one should be able to see the door to knock.

When Ethan opened it, she could just see around him to a young guy, maybe sixteen, in a loose white shirt pulled in at the sides by checked pants. He didn’t take his hat off but scowled out from under it at Ethan. This had to be a Brooklyn newsie.

“Spot wants ta see ‘er,” he said abruptly, nodding toward Alice. The boys all turned to look at her in surprise. They all knew about her night with Spot and had teased her about it, but this royal summons was unexpected. Alice was most shocked of all. She stood up at the table so quickly her cards fluttered to the floor.

Seeing her, the newsie shouldered his way past Ethan and stepped into the apartment. Now he took of his hat.

“Conlon wants ya ta come back wid me,” he said, just as gruffly, still not releasing the permanent scowl his face seemed to be contorted into.

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“I—where?”

“Lodgin ‘ouse.”

She glanced down at Henry who had stiffened and yanked his head to the side once to dissuade her.

“What does he want?”

“Dunno. Just tol’ me ta come get youse.”

“How did you know where she lives?” Henry demanded, getting to his feet. Alice gripped his arm.

“Spot tol’ me.”

“And how does _he_ know?”

“He followed me here, I think,” Alice stammered. “He’s the one who left me those flowers. Right?” She directed the question toward the newsie, but he just shrugged.

“You comin or not? I don’ got all night.”

Alice looked sidelong at Henry who was now firmly shaking his head.

“Hell no she’s not going. This is crazy,” he exclaimed.

The newsie shrugged but seemed suddenly more engaged. He twisted his hat in his hands and took another step into the apartment. Ethan was still standing at the open door, looking flustered. Brian stood up beside Henry.

“Spot wants ya ta come,” the newsie said more earnestly, looking just at Alice now. “He tol’ me ta bring ya.”

She could see that he was afraid of failing in his duty to do so, and even that was enough to make her want to go. But something was stopping her, something more than her fingers gripping Henry’s arm or the obvious suspicion of the boys in the room. She didn’t like being sent for, beckoned to appear before him after having heard nothing for days. She wanted Spot to be disappointed.

“Tell Spot if he wants to see me he can call on me himself,” Alice said finally. The newsie huffed out a frustrated breath and spun on his heel, gone from the room so quickly she blinked after him in surprise. She hadn’t expected it to be that easy. Ethan let the door fall closed. They all looked at each other.

“What the hell was that about?” Henry asked.

“I thought we were gonna have to fight a Brooklyn newsie,” Brian joked. “I wasn’t sure I was up for it.” Henry and Ethan joined in laughing and comparing notes about how they’d planned to overpower him. Alice dropped back into her chair heavily, shaking her head. She could already see that knowing Spot Conlon at all, in any capacity, was going to be very different from knowing anyone else.

When she’d reached down to retrieve her cards, after the deck had been reshuffled, and they’d begun the hand over, there was another knock on the door, this time louder and more deliberate.

Ethan muttered something under his breath, marked his page again, put the book down, crossed to the door, and opened it to reveal Spot Conlon standing in the doorway.

His eyes scanned the room and found Alice immediately.

“Hey, Doll.”

“Spot,” she stammered in surprise and embarrassment. Alice put her cards down on the table and moved quickly toward him so they could speak privately, but Henry had grabbed her arm. She looked back at him, at the distrust and concern on his face.

“Who’s dis,” Spot asked, nodding toward him. He walked into the apartment and straight up to the table, holding out his hand.

“Henry’s my cousin,” Alice answered, watching their hands connect.

“I saw ya at my party,” Spot confirmed.

“Yeah, we were there,” Henry answered.

“Ya ‘ave a good time?”

“Yep.”

Spot turned to Alice, hat in hands, and nodded lowly.

“Ya turned ma boy away,” he accused, but he was smirking at her.

“I don’t like to be sent for,” she answered.

Spot nodded his understanding.

“I’ll remembah that,” he said.

“How did you get here so fast?”

“I was at da pub down da street.”

Alice looked at Henry to confirm the existence of such a pub and he nodded.

“O’Malley’s.”

“Das right.”

He held his hand out for Alice, palm up, expectantly.

“Where are we going?” Alice asked.

Henry turned his head to hiss in her ear. “You sure you wanna go with this guy? That seem smart to you?”

Alice looked up at him, smiled her reassurance.

“Where are we going?” she repeated, still looking at her cousin.

“Angel,” Spot said, putting his hat back on and beginning to back toward the door. “I don’ need ta beg ya ta come wid me. I got other opportunities for feminine company. If you ain’t interested...”

Alice wanted to let him back out through the door. She wanted to be strong enough to call his bluff, or even to let him go off with some other girl and never see him again. But she did want to see him. And she couldn’t let him do that. She opened her mouth to stop him but couldn’t think of what to say. The judgement of the room was on her. Spot held his arm out to her as he reached the doorway, and without thinking she followed after him and looped her hand around it and followed him down the stairs, ignoring Henry hissing her name.

 


	5. Chapter 5

When they got outside, Alice could smell the alcohol on him, the wind blowing it back toward her as he led her down the street.

“What do you drink?” she asked.

“What?”

“What’s your drink of choice?”

“Ah. Bourbon.”

She nodded, unsurprised. He had dropped his arm to hold her hand, and he pulled her after him in the dark.

“Where are we going?” she asked again, but Spot, again, didn’t answer.

He stopped suddenly and pulled her sideways into an alley, catching her around the waist and pulling her against him, her weight pressing him hard against the brick wall at his back. She stumbled against him in surprise but didn’t stop him from kissing her, smiling against his mouth and relaxing into his arms.

“Jis’ wanted ta see ya,” he murmured against her.

“It’s been a few days,” she agreed.

“Imma busy guy.”

“I’m sure you are.”

He kissed her again; Alice could taste the bourbon, spicy on his breath, and he was warm through the thin checkered shirt and her own white blouse. Her hands were planted against his chest, resisting somewhat the vice he had ensnared her in, but her stomach flipped excitedly, straining against her insides.

When one of his hands rose to grip the base of her neck and bring her more firmly to him, she pushed back.

“Spot,” she whispered. “Spot, stop.”

“Wassa matta?”

“Is this why you came to see me?”

“You ain’t happy ta see me?” he asked, tilting his head down again. Alice covered his lips with her finger tips, a shield between them.

“Spot.”

He sighed but let her go, lounging back against the alley wall, his hat bumped crooked, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Angel, I can’t help myself when I see ya. ‘Ere I meant ta be a poifect gentleman but then I saw you an’ all dat went out da window.”

Alice laughed at his absurdity and rolled her eyes. She had crossed her arms in front of her. But she smiled, smiled and shook her head at him, and she was pleased.

“I’m not really a ‘quick fuck in the alley’ kinda girl,” she said.

His eyebrows shot up in apparent surprise, but his grin widened and his eyes were hard on hers.

“What kinda fuck _do_ ya like?”

She shoved at his arm and turned away from him, her face reddening.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Doll. It don’ bodduh me ya done dis before.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said.

“So ya ‘aven’t?”

“I—” Alice stammered, hating herself for backing herself into this conversation, right now, with this infamous Brooklyn leader. Truthfully, she had done it before. Once. With a young lawyer friend of her boss’. Thinking about it now made her face flush and she dug her arms tighter around her middle, unable to look up at Spot.

“’Ey,” he reached out and tugged at one of her crossed arms. “Don’ worry bout it. Either way. I shouldn’ta asked ya. I forget what it’s like, sometimes. Bein wid civilized company. ‘Ey.”

He pulled her arms loose and held her hands firmly in his. Alice turned her head away when he stooped to see into her eyes, but she was playing, laughing, and he reached up and caught her chin in his rough fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“And here you just told me the last time I saw you that you don’t apologize.”

“I’m a man of many surprises,” he said. “And contradictions.”

“I see,” she teased. He released her chin. His thumb brushed the back of her hand.

“Come back ta da house wid me.”

“It’s late.”

“So?”

“Henry will worry.”

“Why? He knows you’re wid me.”

“Exactly. That’s why he’ll worry.”

Spot laughed.

“So you’re just gonna leave me ta stumble home alone, like dis, in my current condition?”

“Oh please, you’re barely drunk.”

“Nah, I don’ get drunk.”

“Something else you’re going to contradict in the near future?” Alice asked, grinning.

“Maybe,” he agreed. They were quiet for a moment, gazing at each other. Alice swallowed hard and felt her heart pounding in her chest. Spot’s jaw tightened. She watched the muscles at his temple ripple.

“I need to get back,” she whispered. Spot sighed in frustration but nodded and pushed off from the alley wall, turning back the way they’d come. They made it back quickly, having not gotten very far, and in silence. Alice thought he might be angry and that made _her_ angry, that he’d been so presumptuous. But when they reached the door to the building, he stopped abruptly and turned back to face her, looking down at her in such a way that she caught her breath and forgot to be mad.

“G’night,” he said lowly.

“Good night.”

“Sleep well.”

“You too.”

“Oh, I will, Darlin,” he said, eyes glittering. “Dreamin a you.” He planted a quick kiss on her cheek and then turned, smirking and melted into the dark.


	6. Chapter 6

He came to her the next morning. After the boys had gone to work, Alice cleaned up the breakfast dishes and dressed for the day and had picked up Ethan’s book idly, thumbing through the pages, thinking about what she should do.

The faint click at the window startled her, but when she realized it was just something outside she went back to what she was doing. But then it sounded again, and again, and when she looked over, she saw a piece of gravel thunk against the glass. Alice hurried over to the window, lifted it and peered out, down into the street, where Spot Conlon stood, papers slung up on his shoulders, grinning at her.

“Ya wanna sell wid me taday?” he asked. Alice smiled—too big, she knew—and grabbed her hat, pinning it into her hair as she went down, her shawl flapping on her shoulders. She met him in the street where he kissed the back of her hand and then held it in his as he turned back down the way he’d come.

“You ever done dis before?” he asked, a question uncomfortably reminiscent of their conversation from the night before. Alice shook her head.

“Yer not gonna be any good at it.”

She scoffed. “Geeze, thanks.”

“I mean, ya look too nice. No one’s gonna buy from someone who looks like dey don’t need da money.”

“So that’s why you look so dowdy all the time?”

He pulled his hand away to grip his chest.

“Oo, Doll, ya wound me.”

They smiled at each other.

“So tell me what to do,” she said. Spot reached up to the stack balanced on his shoulders and counted out five papers, then handed them across to her.

“ _Five_?” she squeaked incredulously. “You think I can only sell _five_ in this whole morning?”

“Big talk from a foist timmer! A’ight, ‘ere.” He counted out five more and handed them to her.

“Do I get to keep the money?” she teased.

“Hell no! I paid fer dose papes. I’m already stickin my neck out seein as how dere’s no way yer gonna sell all dose.”

“Oh really!”

“No way.”

“I bet I could. With the right teacher.”

“An you t’ink dat’s me?”

“Of course!”

His smile widened and he pulled her into his side.

“Alright, Doll. ‘Ere’s what ya gotta do.”

Spot made up a headline for her to use and sent her to a corner to shout meekly about the news. Alice realized she did not like hollering at the passing crowd and they didn’t seem to respond well to it either, so she took to speaking in a conversational tone to passersby and had sold three papers within the hour. Spot had trotted off to sell a few blocks away and came back for her with a much smaller stack of newspapers.

“How’d we do?” he asked.

“This is hard!” Alice exclaimed. “I’ve only sold three!”

“Das not bad fer yer first time.”

“Are you just saying that to be nice?”

“Eh, kinda. It’s not great. But it’s not terrible. I saw ya changed yer strategy when the first thing wasn’t woikin—yer a quick learner. Das what makes a good newsie.”

“Well, all the same. I don’t think I’ll quit my day job.”

He laughed back at her.

“Nah, I wouldn’t.”

“So, what now?” She asked.

“Whaddaya mean ‘what now’? You still got seven papes! Move the merchandise, Darlin!”

Alice thought he was only kidding, but then he backed away from her into the street, grinning, and spun quickly, disappearing into the crowd. She heard his voice calling out headlines, fading as he walked further and further away.

She raised the stack of papers up and looked at them, shaking her head. That son of a bitch had conned her into doing his work. She smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, I feel like the general tone of their witty banter is getting too repetitive. Guess that means I'm not creative enough! Soak up these light-hearted chapters while they last; they won't be here forever! ;)

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read my Newsies fics before, you know I like to write Spot in a lot of different ways. So don't expect him to read like he does in my other ongoing fic! As fair warning, Alice, Angel will have considerably more language and explicit sexual content than anything else I've done to date, so if that's going to bother you you'd be better off sticking with my other fics :) I'm very excited about this story and I'd love love love feedback as I go along! Feel free to message me with requests and review, pretty please!


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